


Talk That Talk

by catholicschoolgirl



Series: The Loveeee Song Series [4]
Category: One Direction (Band), Rihanna (Musician)
Genre: Double Vaginal Penetration, Explicit Sexual Content, Infidelity, Multi, Rihanna continuing to detest her contemporaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 19:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2440052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catholicschoolgirl/pseuds/catholicschoolgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rihanna doesn't want Harry to have all of the fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk That Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jadziadrgnrdr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadziadrgnrdr/gifts).



> I had to watch a lot of porn for this, Crystal. For a [drabble request](http://catholicschoolgirl.tumblr.com/post/99756405406/prompt-zarry-rihanna-double-vag-penetration-0).

Rihanna was jetlagged as fuck and nobody in her team apparently had the foresight to get her smashed before throwing her in a car headed to the O2 Arena, so she was in a horrible mood. It was cold and the bar in her nipple ring kept snagging on the fabric of her dress, Rihanna wished she was still on vacation, and Drake had been texting her again lately and she just didn't want to deal with any of the bullshit that came with putting out a new album. Last year had been great – touring with Em and partying, going on vacation and fucking half of the German National Team when she was in Brazil for the World Cup. It had been a great and much-deserved year off, but now she had a new CD to promote, one that she was absurdly proud of, a move away from dance-pop and closer to her Barbadian roots. And now she was on her way to perform her new single for the first time.

Well, she was on her way to perform if she didn't end up killing half her team first. Because they were really fucking trying it today. Did they really not know better than to just hand her a bottle of Jameson the moment she touched down at London-Heathrow?

They were about five minutes away from the O2 when Jenn coughed and shoved her iPhone underneath Rihanna's face. Rihanna's eyes went a little crossed trying to read whatever the fuck was on the screen, and she tried to push it back a little but ended up knocking it out of Jenn's hands and underneath the seat. “The fuck it say?” Rihanna asked while Jenn sighed, deep and long-suffering like she liked to do and grunted, retrieving her phone from where it had gotten wedged in between purses and a bag of McDonald's fries.

“That little fuckboy you like,” Jenn said. “That one you always talk about eating you out good last year. With the hair. He's going to be at the awards tonight.”

“Who?” Rihanna asked. “Neymar?”

“What?” Jenn asked. “The soccer player? _No_.”

“Rocky?”

“That don't even make any sense,” Melissa piped up from where she was sitting in the last row of the Escalade. “Like they would let his busted ass into the country.”

“He don't even have good hair,” Jenn continued. “Neymar doesn't either. It's that white boy – you know which one I'm talking about, right, Mel?”

“The one who dated that low-budget model,” Melissa said. “Yeah. Uh. Fuck.”

“You're not giving me enough to work with here,” Rihanna said. “Leonardo DiCaprio?”

“You fucked Leonardo DiCaprio?” Jenn asked incredulously. “ _When_?”

“We're getting sidetracked!” Melissa interjected. “It's that kid from that boy band. Henry?”

“Harry Styles?”

“Yes!” Jenn said with a triumphant grin. “Harry Styles is going to be here tonight.”

“Well, duh. I already knew that.”

Jenn looked as though she was on the verge of murdering Rihanna, but Melissa thankfully stepped in. “Did he text you?”

“No, he doesn't have my new number, I don't think,” Rihanna said, fiddling with one of her rings absentmindedly. “Katy told me.”

Melissa and Jenn both groaned in unison, Jenn going so far as to mime vomiting into her McDonald's. “Katy's really dating him, then?” Melissa asked. “I remember seeing it on one of those magazines in the airport but that seems pretty desperate, even for Kitty Purry.”

“Nothing's too desperate for her,” Jenn answered with an eye-roll. “So you're not gonna try and fuck Harry tonight then?”

“Oh, I didn't say that,” Rihanna grinned. “He still owes me. Actually – Jenn, can you get his number off someone from his team?”

“'Course,” Jenn said, fiddling with her phone again. “Should we have him come back to the hotel?”

Rihanna nodded. “Yeah, and tell him to bring a plus-one. He'll remember.”

Jenn quirked her lips in a smile but didn't ask any questions, just banged away on her phone. Rihanna could already feel her mood improving exponentially.

 

The Brits were boring, just like every other award ceremony Rihanna had gone to during her career. She was the last performer, which meant she had to sit through everyone else's bullshit, which was far from ideal. She was also seated two tables away from Katy Perry, Harry Styles, and the rest of One Direction, and spent the majority of the ceremony trying not to glare. Katy had actually come over while they were both pointedly not watching Taylor Swift's recorded acceptance speech for some bullshit award, all fake hugs and kisses until Katy's team shepherded her back over to Harry to maintain their charade of a romance. Rihanna didn't actively dislike Katy anymore, but she knew they would never be as close as they had once been, and watching Katy lay her head on Harry's shoulder made Rihanna want to take off her Zanotti's and beat Katy back into irrelevancy. Harry was always getting set up on these bullshit dates with bland white bread artists – why couldn't Harry and Rihanna have a fake relationship? Rihanna could imagine it so clearly – stumbling out of nightclubs in Paris together, Harry getting Rihanna's name tattooed in a sailor's heart in Miami, Rihanna releasing their sex tape and making approximately a billion dollars before retiring. They would be the most epic celebrity couple to ever sing stupid pop songs.

Rihanna got ready for her performance and had a few shots before going on stage, relishing in the hot lights and the feel of everyone's eyes caressing her hips and thighs when the camera started to roll. It was a good performance, Rihanna could feel it in her veins, arousal already starting to pool in her belly when the confetti signaling the end of the performance started to fall, Rihanna finding Harry in the crowd and winking at him while he smiled at her, big, adoringly, and goofy.

 

Rihanna hated official after-parties so they headed back to the Lanesborough, everyone in her team already turned up and ready to get wasted. Jenn had procured several bottles of champagne, so Rihanna stripped down to her bra and panties and sat by herself in the main bedroom, turning her playlist on shuffle, drinking straight from the bottle, and basking in being fucking _alone_ , if only for a minute.

Bob Marley had given way to Mariah Carey which changed over to Guns n Roses by the time Melissa knocked on Rihanna's door, peaking her head in with a slightly baffled look on her face. “You've got two-fifths of a boyband standing around out here,” Melissa remarked. 

“Harry and the sexy one?” Rihanna clarified.

Melissa turned around and made a soft appraising noise. “Yeah, he's pretty sexy. Said his name is like Zander or something? Zeke?”

“Zayn,” Rihanna yawned. “Yeah, bring them in.”

Melissa shrugged and called through to the main room, withdrawing her head from the doorway, and a few minutes later a very tall and delicious-looking Harry Styles waltzed in, a more hesitant Zayn Malik in tow. Rihanna couldn't help but grin when Harry came to stand in front of her, a huge, shit-eating smile dancing across his own face. Rihanna would probably always have a soft spot for the kid, he was just too fucking endearing. Sweet, charming, accommodating with dimpled cheeks.  _Plus_ his cock was massive and he let Rihanna peg him once. 

Zayn though – he was an unknown factor. Rihanna honestly didn't know much about him, just that Harry seemed to have a hard-on for him and that he was really quite pretty. Rihanna had Googled him earlier in the day, so now she did at least know that Zayn was about to get married to Casper from a girl band with awful fashion, which was baffling since Zayn was barely legal, but Rihanna also found it strangely endearing. Rihanna at least understood the struggle of regularly fucking people just because you felt bad for being more successful than them.

“It's good to see you,” Harry said, leaning forward to peck Rihanna on the lips. 

“It's good to see you without a prism hanging off your arm,” Rihanna countered.

“What?”

“It's a joke about Katy Perry,” Zayn mumbled, sauntering forward and standing awkwardly in front of Rihanna. “I'm Zayn,” he continued, thrusting his hand out for a shake, which Rihanna took with a bemused smile. Harry had changed into comfy clothes, a tank top and sweats that didn't do much to disguise the bulge of his cock, but Zayn was still wearing his dress shirt from the awards ceremony, swapping out slacks for a pair of jeans. He looked good, but Rihanna couldn't help but wonder whether he was trying to prove something. Rihanna didn't mind, was actually rather eager to figure it out.

“I'm not going to bother introducing myself,” Rihanna said. “So. Did Harry tell you why you're here?”

Zayn looked long at Harry, who just grinned and rocked back on the balls of his feet. “Kind of, but I – I don't know. Like. If I can participate.”

“You're already participating because you're here,” Rihanna replied with a quirk of her eyebrow. “This is about the girlfriend, right?”

“Fiancee.”

“Glorified pussy with a head,” Rihanna said with a wave of her hand. “If you were a good boy, there's nothing Harry could've said that would've brought you out here. So cut the moral dilemma act and take your pants off.”

Zayn exchanged another look with Harry, who shrugged. “That's just kinda how she talks.”

“Hey, you, I'm still right here,” Rihanna said, snapping her fingers in Harry's face. “You know there are better things you could be doing with that mouth.”

Harry's eyes lit up and he immediately got down on his knees, settling on his belly in between Rihanna's thighs and parting them with strong, sure fingers. Rihanna sighed, leaning her head against the wall and helping Harry drag her panties down her thighs. Harry ghosted his breath over Rihanna's cunt, Rihanna feeling her clit throb in anticipation, and Rihanna almost forgot that Zayn was there until he cursed, watching Harry mouth over her in soft kitten licks, eyes wide.

“Why are you looking at him like that?” Rihanna asked, her breath hitching as she carded her fingers through Harry's curls and held him against her cunt. “Nothing you haven't seen before, right?”

“What?”

“He told me you two recorded girls before,” Rihanna replied with a filthy grin. “You ever both fucked one at the same time? Is that how you all bond in that boyband of yours?”

Zayn threw a betrayed look at Harry, one that Harry didn't notice, otherwise occupied as he was with eagerly lapping Rihanna's wetness with his tongue. “It's not like that.”

“So it's just you two then?” Rihanna asked. “And why are you still wearing pants?”

Zayn looked torn, but Rihanna knew it was all a facade, feeling victory surge hot through her thighs when Zayn finally began unbuttoning his jeans with shaky fingers. Rihanna tsked and gestured for him to walk over, Rihanna finishing the job and thrusting his jeans and underwear down his thighs. He was quite skinny, with tattoos on his hipbone and another piece high on his thigh that Rihanna didn't ever recall seeing in all of her Internet research, and even at half-mast, his cock was impressive, not as fucking massive as Harry's, but golden brown, thick and uncut. Rihanna smiled at Zayn appreciatively before wrapping her fingers around the base and lapping at the tip, Zayn twitching in her grasp and inhaling sharply. Rihanna slurped along the head before pulling back to spit along the length, taking Zayn firmly into her mouth and sucking until she felt him at the back of her throat, looking up at Zayn through her eyelashes.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry cursed, still fully dressed, chin wet from where he had been eating Rihanna out. “You're both so hot – ”

“No talking,” Rihanna said, pulling off and jacking Zayn, maintaining eye contact with him even as she directed all of her words to Harry. “Make me come and then I want you to both fuck me.”

“Eiffel Tower?” Harry clarified.

“No,” Rihanna said, slapping Zayn's cock against her lips. “Want you both in my cunt at the same time.”

Rihanna felt Zayn twitch again in her grasp and Harry literally fucking keened, the noise sending vibrations up Rihanna's clit. Rihanna just smiled.

 

Rihanna liked to think she was adventurous, always eager to try new things. That being said, she'd never had two dicks up her pussy before. She figured it couldn't be too difficult, though. Anything was possible with enough lube.

When Rihanna had been touching herself to the thought of this the night before, she had a brief moment of panic where she thought that Harry and Zayn wouldn't be down for it. Luckily, they were both freaks, Harry lying on his back after he made Rihanna come with his tongue and Rihanna sinking onto his length cowgirl style, grinding against him experimentally and running the pads of her fingers over her own tits. Zayn was watching them with hooded eyes, jacking himself lazily. He'd been so good, hadn't even come when Rihanna had been sucking him off. Rihanna decided then and there that she was desperately fond of him, too, wouldn't mind a PR relationship with him, either.

Rihanna pulled off on Harry until his cock was about half in, gesturing for Zayn to climb up the bed. He settled on either side of Harry's thighs behind Rihanna, grabbing Rihanna's bottle of lube and coating his dick with slickness. 

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Zayn asked, rubbing the head of his cock against Rihanna's perineum while she moaned. 

“Not really,” Rihanna answered with a shrug. “No way to know unless we try, though.”

Zayn pulled a face but ended up shrugging as well, taking a deep breath before pressing down against Harry's cock and into Rihanna's cunt. Rihanna screwed her face up – not in pain, exactly. Because the pressure didn't really hurt, but it was certainly overwhelming as fuck, two cocks stretching her open, Zayn's steady movement pushing Harry's dick right against her G-spot. She could feel wetness gushing out of her, her fingernails scratching at Harry's bicep while she took a moment to think about what was happening. 

“Fuck me now,” Rihanna commanded when she was ready, and then Zayn and Harry were both _moving_. Harry was grunting, face screwed up in pleasure underneath Rihanna, and Rihanna could feel Zayn leaning against her back, his shoulders infinitely broad where his skin pressed into hers. It was hot and sweaty and Rihanna felt so good, their cocks settling a slow but brutal pace, every stroke hurtling her closer and closer to her second orgasm, that familiar building feeling that signaled she was not only going to come, but squirt.

It hit her all at once, pleasure exploding behind her eyelids while she let go, everything wet and hot and perfect. Harry squeezed her waist and then he was coming to, his thrusts stuttering until they stopped, and Rihanna was so gone she hardly even realized Zayn was absolutely fucking done, collapsing on top of Rihanna and going soft inside of her.

“You're both kind of really heavy,” Harry said after a long moment where they were all just panting and absolutely spent.

“Shut up, Harry,” Rihanna mumbled, feeling strangely proud of herself when Zayn rolled off of her and wrapped his arms around her waist, chuckling against her neck. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't even know what to say for myself anymore.
> 
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